Ounce of Prevention
by Cynlee
Summary: Splinter feels smothered by his sons' attention during a normal illness but there may be a tad more to it than any of them think except, perhaps, Mikey...completed!
1. Chapter 1

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Why is this crazy woman posting another story? Because she goes back to the real world of work next week, and she has enjoyed herself a lot at this site! In case you don't know, I am a teacher-- and my track (year-round school) begins next week-- and my vacation of lurking and surfing and writing whenever I feel like it comes to a harsh end, so I am taking advantage of the time. This story is being told by two different people thanks to the suggestion of an online friend, Dee-- and I hope it doesn't disappoint you. I find that I have many ideas, good and bad.

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The Teen age Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Splinter, are owned by Mirage. "Shi" and anything else to do with Japanese culture or mythology is owned by the Japanese. I own a Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Sam-I-Am, and at the most 9 cats own me...

It is possible to have too much attention.

It is possible to wish to be left alone, despite how much you love your sons.

It is also possible to worry too much about the future.

It is especially possible if you are ill.

Let me tell you a story.

"An Ounce of Prevention"

SPLINTER:

I wake up this morning feeling "old".

I know when I feel like this, it means I have come down with a cold.

No training today-- just bed rest and meditation.

Now, how to hide this from my sons.

They are loving and well-meaning, but sometimes it is better to simply be sick without being fussed over.

This means I must come up with a good excuse, as well as appear well in the process.

I get up and slowly do my usual routine, and then I go out to greet my sons and have breakfast.

"Good morning, my sons," I say, as usual.

All of them look at me.

"Sensei, you have a cold, don't you?" Leonardo accuses.

Now this startles me, as I have not exhibited any of the symptoms to them.

"My son, what are you talking about?"

"You're late this morning," Raphael says matter-of-factly. "You are an hour late in coming out."

"You're only late when you're not feeling well," Donatello adds. "Since we can remember, the only time you are ever the last one to get up this late is when you are sick."

"So, this means that the next thing you will say is 'there will be no training today, my sons'," Michelangelo says, in what I believe is supposed to be an imitation of how I sound, "followed by some excuse, like you are spending the day fasting and meditating, and are not to be disturbed."

Then they all grin at me, waiting for me to deny it.

Now I know for sure I am ill, as I cannot come up with a plausible argument quick enough to dispute the issue with them.

Instead, I slowly make my way to my seat at the table and sit down, waiting for my tea.

"Okay, who wants first watch?" Leonardo asks.

"I'll take it," Raphael says. "Casey and I have plans for later in the day, so I'd like to take first watch."

"Good enough," Leonardo agrees, as Donatello brings me my tea and Michelangelo offers me some scrambled eggs and toast.

And watches me to confirm his suspicions.

I ignore the eggs and eat some of the toast.

"Okay, guys, you know the routine," Leonardo says, as they all begin breakfast.

"What 'routine' are you referring to, my son?" I ask, a little irritated by their words like "first watch" as well as this one I am asking about.

"Sorry, Sensei," Leonardo bows-- but he looks amused. "You are not ill often enough to notice, but we have a routine we follow at these times. We still train, and do our chores and such, but we adapt to the fact that one of us is always with you."

"I am hardly someone who needs twenty-four hour attention," I grumble-- another indication that I am not feeling well, to myself as well as my sons. "I do not like this reference to 'first watch', for example. I only have a cold. I have had them before. All I need is to be quiet and rest. I do not require a 'death watch'."

"Master Splinter, you say this every time," Donatello says, as they all nod and smile. "You always think we smother you, and the fact is, you are just angry at being ill, and you take it out on us by accusing us of performing a 'death watch'."

I get up from the table and head to my room.

I am not even in the door and Raphael is already setting down a tray with a glass, a large pitcher of barley water, a box of tissues, and my unfinished tea. He has also brought in a hot plate and supplies to make more tea when requested, and an extra blanket, all within easy reach of my bed.

"What kind of broth would you prefer, Sensei?" he asks.

I sigh.

"All I need is whatever you are having today," I say, sitting in my bed, shoulders sagging. I feel as if I have just participated in a rigorous training session, or a preliminary match in the Battle Nexus.

Yes, I definitely am ill. I am starting to feel tired, and I am beginning to ache all over.

"I'll be back with a hot water bottle and some herbal stuff April gave us for this type of thing," he promises, and leaves.

I contemplate the idea of locking and barring the door, but my sons are too well-trained to be deterred by that type of action.

I feel too tired to try to escape, so I move over to my meditation corner.

I will meditate, and then go back to bed.

MIKE:

"Hey, Mikey, give me a hand with this," Raph says, coming out of Splinter's room and gathering a few more things.

I do so without complaint. After all, I am the nicest one.

We get some stuff to read, some meds, and extra cushions. Splinter has no furniture, and sitting on the floor gets to be a bit painful, you know?

Loaded down we go back in.

Three things catch my attention: The room feels like a freezer; Splinter is lying on the floor, not in his bed-- and something is bending over him--!

"MIKEY!" Raph is shouting behind me-- he hasn't seen what has caused me to drop everything and pull my weapons. "What the hell-- Sensei!"

Now Raph has dropped his load of supplies and rushes to our master-- but he doesn't pull his sai!

"Raph, look out!" I try to warn, but he is kneeling by Sensei, checking his pulse. As he does this, the "whatever" fades from my sight, and I'm left confused, cold, and shaking.

"Mikey, put those away and help me," Raph's voice snaps me back. I hesitantly do so, scanning the room. I know I saw something bending over Sensei-- I know I did!

We get him to bed, and he wakes up for a moment, confused.

"You fainted, Sensei," Raph says in a surprisingly soothing tone, and then Master Splinter goes to sleep.

"This is more than a cold, I'm thinking," Raph says, pulling the covers up over our father. "Better go get Don and Leo."

But I keep staring around the room, feeling as if I need to be there...

"Mikey! Put those 'chuks away and go get Leo and Don!" Raph's voice once again snaps me out of whatever I am in-- I hadn't even noticed that I'd pulled them out again-- and it feels as if I'm finally back in the room-- and yet I never felt like I'd left it-- and yet I feel like-- "MIKEY!"

Now Raph is sounding concerned as well as pissed at me. He is staring me in the eyes; he has managed to disarm me with no effort.

"What's got into you, bro?"

"Didn't-- didn't you see it?"

"See what?"

"When we came in," I don't even recognize the sound of my voice. "There was something bending over Sensei. Something dark!"

Raph looks at me strangely, then places his hand on my forehead.

"Nope, no fever. Go and get Don and Leo!" and he shoves me towards the door, turning his back on me.

I still can't explain it, but I walk out of the room, and feel once again like I've just returned from somewhere else.

"Must be the shock of seeing Splinter like that," I say to myself, and go tell Don and Leo what's happened.

Well, most of it.

Don brings a thermometer, and we troop back in.

"The room seems cold today," Leo notices at once, and I get nervous all over again. "Better turn up the heat."

"We don't want to make it too hot," Don says, taking Splinter' temperature as best as he can while he's sleeping. "Hmm-- he has a fever, but I'm surprised that he would faint-- it's not that high."

"He was going to meditate," Raph says. "He was over in his spot, and had lit a few of his candles. Maybe when he tried it was too much 'cause he was getting a fever."

"Maybe," Leo says, nodding, as he finishes straightening up the area.

"Uh, guys..." I start to say, and they look at me.

But for some reason I can't speak.

"Yeah, Mikey?" Leo finally hints.

"Um-- nothing," I murmur, staring at the floor.

"Mikey thinks he saw something 'bending over Sensei' when we first came in," Raph says, and I steel myself for the ridicule and sarcasm.

But after a moment I realize that Raphy has not said it in a disbelieving or mean way.

Don is wanting to take my temperature.

"Eww-- get that away from me!" I sputter, as he is trying to put the thermometer in my mouth.

The guys look at each other, but decide, I guess, to let it go.

Later on, I hear why.

I don't mean to listen in, but I'm watching TV when I hear Leo, Don, and my name.

"Probably he was just upset with Sensei's fainting like that," Don is saying softly. They think I'm concentrating on the show, but hey, I'm good at doing a few things at once. Besides, I've seen this episode so many times, I can quote it word-for-word.

"Yeah. I think Raph was shook up as well," Leo agrees. "You notice that he didn't once make any comments about what Mikey thought he saw."

"Are you worried about Splinter?"

"Yes, Don. He's never fainted before. I hope this is just the flu. Is April coming over?"

"Yeah, she said she'd come over later with some stuff. She thinks it's the flu as well, and doesn't seem too worried about his fainting."

"Why should she? He's not her father..."

I don't care what they think, I think, returning to the show and tuning them out. I know I felt something and saw something, and it had nothing to do with Splinter's being passed out on the floor.

And I'm going to figure it out-- somehow.


	2. Chapter 2

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Hey, waitaminute! You just posted Chapter one! Yeah, but I have two chapters ready, and God knows when I will have the next few together, and I feel this overwhelming desire to get this up!

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TMNT and all that is wicked cool about them is owned by Mirage, no matter how much the rest of us wish with fingers and toes crossed.

SPLINTER:

The next thing I know, I am lying under a blanket, and Raphael is putting a cool rag on my forehead.

"Hey! Finally! How are you feeling?"

"Confused," I honestly reply. "I was meditating. I do not recall going back to bed."

"Mikey and I came in and found you lying on the floor," he says, and though his face is trying to look like nothing unusual happened, his voice sounds as if he is greatly relieved. "You must have passed out. Once we got you into bed, you came to for a few minutes, then fell asleep. You've been out for a couple of hours. We think you've got the flu. You have a fever, for one thing. April says she will come over later and confirm it. Meanwhile, you need to sit up and drink some water and broth."

I am still surprised by this turn of events, so much so that I do as Raphael requests without argument.

I try to remember what it was I was doing-- I had lit the candles-- I had begun to relax, to let go-- it was cold and dark-- something dark was taking shape--

Then I was waking up in bed.

It concerns me for a moment, this "fainting" and such. I have been ill before, but I have never experienced this.

Is it because I am nearing the end of my life?

After all, I am considerably older than the average rat.

Perhaps I am close to the end?

This surprises me more-- this depression I suddenly experience.

I lay back down, and try to calm my spirit. But all I can think of is death.

This more than anything worries me; the fact that I am suddenly worried. I have thought of death before. We will all die, and I had thought that I would welcome it in the end, but now... but now, why am I feeling so-- so-- worried?

What will happen to my sons when I am gone?

Raphael is still talking to me about something, but I do not pay attention. The room feels cold, and I pull the covers up higher. I fall asleep thinking of my sons' future without me.

And I dream terrible things.

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I am lying on my futon, surrounded by my sons.

They are kneeling, with their eyes closed, and hands clasped in respect, and tears running down their faces.

I try to ask them what is the problem, but I cannot move.

I cannot speak.

And then I am above the scene, and I realize what has happened-- I have died!

My sons have found my body.

My heart is breaking for them!

My sons! I try shouting, but no sound comes from anywhere-- except the sounds of their crying.

They are so unprepared for this. I did a poor job of raising them, training them.

They will not know how to hold the funeral.

They know nothing about the memorial service to be held after death.

I have neglected their obligations to the dead by concentrating on their obligations to the living.

I am not worthy of being called "Sensei".

Now I see Donetello, working as usual at his projects.

And Michelangelo is bothering him, as usual.

I can see them, but not hear them.

Donetello is warning his brother not to touch something shiny and interesting.

There is an explosion.

Michelangelo! You are a careless fool! I shout, though no sound comes out. But that does not stop me, and I berate him something fierce for destroying the Lair.

I am watching Raphael and Leonardo arguing once again about how some unimportant thing should be done.

Must you both fight even after I am gone? I shout at them, disappointed beyond belief at my failure to instill in them brotherly love and cooperation.

My sons will not survive long without me.

My memorial service.

April and Casey are there-- the crocodile Leatherhead, and Professor Honeycutt, as well as others we have made friends with over the years--and even the Daimyo is present!

And my sons are unsure and fighting and I am desperately trying to contact them, to correct them, to tell them what to do...

And then I am falling into Jigoku-- and am greeted by Emma-o, who opens his book to consult my life.

On either side are two heads on pillars.

"Ah, yes-- Splinter," he says, and the heads open their eyes and look at me with evil delight. "You are most welcome-- to eternal punishment for your failures with your sons! They can't even hold a decent memorial service!"

And I am dragged away into darkness, where a dark something is laughing at my dream.

And I hear Donetello asking me if I am ready to have some tea.

I open my eyes, startled.

Donetello is sitting by my bed, holding some sort of devise he is always working on. He is looking at me with concern.

"Did you hear me,Sensei? Are you ready to have some tea?" And he puts down his project, fetches a fresh, hot cup of green tea, and helps me to sit up to drink it.

We sit quietly for a few minutes. He goes back to his project as I drink my tea.

"What are you working on, my son?" I ask, my dream still fresh in my memory.

"Oh, I'm trying to see if I can remote control the outer alarm perimeters," he replies. "You know, so that we will know sooner if anything has been tampered with or damaged or has simply just quit working. It will save a lot of time if we can check from the Lair."

"Should you rely on mechanical means only, my son?"

"Of course not, Sensei. This is just to help make us more secure."

He looks at me with concern.

"You must have been dreaming some terrible things, Sensei," he finally says. "You were restless for a time, talking in your sleep, and once you tore up Mikey for blowing up the Lair."

I try not to look at him-- my dreams disturbed me so. Plus, I cannot shed this depression about death.

But I do not tell my son this.

"I did have some nightmares, no doubt caused by this fever," I admit that much. But I do not tell him of my death-dream.

Still he looks at me, as if I were some sort of project of his. This irritates me, for some reason.

"Why do you stare so, Donetello? It is very rude."

"Sorry, Sensei. I was just hoping you'd want to talk about your nightmare-- you know, the really bad part."

"What 'really bad part' are you referring to, my son?"

"The part where you worried we wouldn't be able to perform the memorial service correctly because you had neglected to teach us about it. And why would Emma-o condemn you to Jigoku for that?"

I am caught in my worry.

"It is nothing. It is just a vague fear brought on by the fever," I finally sigh. "It is nothing to worry about. It was just a bad dream."

Donetello is very smart. He is smart enough not to believe me. But he is also smart enough to leave it alone for a while.

Though I know his brothers will be well-informed of all of this soon.

MIKEY:

Donny comes out at one point during his watch, and asks me to get some more of the stuff for fevers and another bowl of water.

Once again, when I walk in the room, I see-- something!

"Don! The corner!" I shout, nearly dropping the bowl.

"Mikey! Don't shout!" I'm reprimanded sharply by Don, but he looks where I'm pointing. "What about the corner?"

I am staring hard-- I saw something-- something dark. Something dark and shapeless and cold...

"Mikey! Snap out of it and bring me the stuff I asked for!" Don is losing patience with me. Once again I feel as if I've just come back from somewhere else. The shapeless dark thing is gone, and I only see Sensei and Don in the room. I bring the stuff over and kneel down next to Don.

"What's wrong with Sensei?" I ask, though I can see he is restless, as if in a nightmare.

"Probably a fever dream," Don says, not sounding too concerned. But I know he is; Don is just like that, when he's in Doctor mode. He puts a fresh cloth on Sensei's forehead, and he seems to calm down a little. "Here, mix this up for me," he continues, handing me the stuff we use for fevers when the barley water isn't enough. I do so, and hand him the glass back.

He looks at me as if I've grown another head.

"Mikey, are you feeling okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure..."

"You're pale, and you're kind of shivering."

"Well, it's cold in here," I laugh, though I really don't feel like laughing. I feel like pulling my weapons and going on defense. I feel like something dark and shapeless and cold is creeping up on me.

For a second time today someone feels my forehead.

"You're probably coming down with the flu," Don finally says. "I don't think you should be in here anymore..."

This time I really laugh.

"Don, if Sensei has the flu, and if I'm coming down with the flu, then what's the difference?"

Besides, nothing is going to stop me from taking my turn today.


	3. Chapter 3

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Thanks to Splinter again, as well as KuwabaraMikey17 (you didn't say what was confusing, but thanks for saying it anyway-- I am trying to address this) and somellamafreak for the reviews. I am trying something different with this story, i.e. two POV, and I am not sure if I am editing it together in a smoothe way.

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TMNT are owned by Mirage though I have tried begging on my knees.

SPLINTER:

Michelangelo is now here, taking his "turn" at the death watch-- I mean, at helping out while I am ill. At the moment he is trying to raise my spirits.

I gather they all feel that I am depressed and need cheering up.

I have Donatello to thank for this. As I suspected, he reported to his brothers some of the things I spoke of in my sleep, during my death-dreams.

However, I would rather Michelangelo simply read out loud from one of his comic books than listen to his jokes.

I do not like to hear him read from his comic books, but it would be less painful than his attempts to cheer me up.

"Okay, so, why can't bears fly?" he asks enthusiastically, as he prepares my broth and tea on the hot plate. "Give up? Because they can't afford the plane tickets!"

The "jokes" have been going on for the last half hour. I do not know how much more I can take. He had appeared to be ready to stop earlier. I noticed that, as he was mixing some more barley water, he suddenly looked worried, and glanced around the room, as if sensing something.

"What is the matter, my son?"

His face cleared quickly, and that irrepressible grin returned.

"Nothing, Sensei!" And then he launched into another joke-- something about elephants and diarrhea.

"I love that one," he is laughing-- genuinely it seems-- at this joke, and he looks as if he will not stop. But he does-- long enough to tell me another one. "Oh, oh, oh, here's one Donny still doesn't get-- If the water on the inside of a fire hydrant is h2o, what is the water on the outside of the fire hydrant? K9P!"

I stare in disbelief at the way he cannot breathe for all his laughing.

I try to tell him that I should rest quietly, perhaps even take another nap, but for some reason he feels that I should remain awake for a while.

"My son, I am-- grateful for your attention, but I really feel that I would like to take a little nap now," I try yet again, but he seems determined to keep me awake and cheerful.

"Aww, Sensei, you don't want to have more night-- I mean, you need to eat something first, and then you need to wait for it to settle. It's not good to go to sleep on a full stomach."

And, he insists that I drink my broth.

I am tired of broth, and try to tell him this as well.

I may as well talk to the wall. He pointedly hands me the bowl and sits there, eyes fixed on me, waiting for me to drink it.

I stare at the broth. The smell is turning my stomach.

"Oh, I just remembered the best one!" he begins again, but my head is killing me.

"Really, my son, it is not necessary to try to entertain me with all of these jokes," I try again, desperately fighting to keep the edge out of my voice.

But Michelangelo is not to be dissuaded.

"You know what they say, Sensei-- 'Laughter is the best medicine'," Michelangelo grins.

"They also say 'Silence is golden'," I hint to him.

"They also say 'Feed a cold, starve a fever'," he counters, pointing at the broth.

"They also say 'Leave me alone, or I will have to school you severely'."

He looks at me, a cross between shock and amusement. This sudden outburst of temper doesn't bother him at all-- though it does unsettle my own peace of mind...

"Please drink your broth, Sensei," he says mildly, before I can apologize. "And then I will leave."

When did my son become so clever?

I drink the broth, and true to his word, he leaves.

And I feel guilty for being so abrupt with him.

Until I recall some of his attempts to entertain me.

Then I lay down to rest with a clear conscious.

MIKEY:

That entire time I'm in there, the room remains warm and nothing dark or sinister seems to appear.

Sensei doesn't seem to be having any dreams.

He wakes up and I am determined that he will not have any more.

How can he worry about death? It's just the flu...

Or is it? I can't shake that feeling I had, or that image still in my mind from this morning.

So I tell him jokes-- some of the best. I think he likes them, but he has never been the type for laughing really loud.

He is giving me a hard time, however, with the broth.

I smile, remembering how many times he has forced us to drink broth when ill or injured. I swear, Sensei must think broth is the universal cure, and will handle everything from the common cold to near-death--

Damn! I wish I hadn't thought that, and I nervously look around the room again.

He notices and asks me what the problem is.

"Nothing, Sensei!" and I launch into some more of the best jokes I know.

He keeps insisting that he doesn't need any more jokes, and then he is sort of refusing to drink his broth. But Don was adamant: Sensei must remain hydrated. So I coax him to finally drink it.

I had to cut a deal, however. I told him I'd leave him alone.

I know, sounds odd, since I am so worried about what happened earlier. But I know that if I do this now, in about fifteen minutes I can return. He'll be asleep, and then I can continue my watch.

Maybe the guys are right, and maybe what I thought I saw is just me coming down with the flu, as well...

Still-- I can remember that dark shape, and the cold, and the fear-- I swear, if I'd had hair, it would all have been standing straight up! As it was, my skin was making a pretty good attempt at doing so!

I replenish the things I will need for the rest of my time with Sensei, and after fifteen minutes I carefully reenter his room. He is either asleep or pretending to, so I quietly restock stuff, get comfy, and pick up one of my favorite comics.

You know-- watching with someone gets a little boring. You tend to doze off.

I guess I doze off. I feel cold-- cold as if there is a blizzard going on in the middle of winter, yet it is August. I struggle to open my eyes, and the room is rather dark.

Then I see it! Something dark and shapeless-- darker than the darkness in the room-- it is near Sensei, slowly drawing closer-- I feel like I can't move--

Sensei wakes up, sees the darkness, feels the cold-- he cries out, startled, and throws up a hand to ward off this dark thing--

And then my head snaps up and I open my eyes. I find myself breathing hard, my heart racing, and weirdest of all--myself standing over Sensei, 'chuks spinning.

"It is all right, Michelangelo!" I hear again. Funny, I don't remember until he says it that he had already said it before. I guess that is when I wake up.

No, not wake up-- return to here. Again I feel like I was somewhere else, and just came back to here.

I reluctantly put my weapons away and sink down next to Splinter. He is sitting up in his bed, eyes on me.

"What-- what was that-- **thing, **Sensei?" I finally am able to ask, still shaking with cold and-- and-- fear, I guess.

"You saw something, my son?" He looks at me, worried. For the third time today someone feels my forehead, to see if I have a fever.

"Sensei! It was a dark shape! It was coming towards you!" I insist, moving my head out of his way. "The room is freezing, and dark. Well, it was dark", I add, noticing that it is lighter than it was. Could I have dreamed this?

"My son, I would be grateful if you would get me some tea," he says, not addressing this any further-- I **must** have been dreaming, he seems so unconcerned.

Maybe I **am** coming down with the flu, like Sensei.

I busy myself-- I have to go get more water, so I turn on the hot plate to get it going, and leave for the water.

But I **know** that it wasn't a dream...

SPLINTER:

I am aware that Michelangelo has crept back into the room to continue his portion of the death watch-- I mean, his turn at being here for me. I pretend to be asleep. Even if he knows that I am pretending, he will be quiet now and leave me alone.

I hear the rustle of his comics, and know that I will be left alone as long as I remain in this position. Though I would dearly love to sit up and meditate. I feel better now, and would like nothing more than to go to my corner and continue what I was unable to complete this morning.

Chain of thoughts are very strange. I start thinking of meditation, and I follow this thought until it comes to this morning, and how I was unable to finish; then I realize that I do not recall even getting very far into beginning. I remember that I was just becoming calm and opening my mind when something dark and shapeless appeared-- and the room felt so cold-- so very cold-- and then I apparently fainted, which is something I had never done before.

This reminds me of my depression; my fear that the end is drawing close. I try not to follow this particular part of my chain of thought, but I find myself being pulled along it firmly though unwillingly. I think about my regrets, my fears for my sons, and my nightmare. I am tempted to laugh at this irrational fear, this foolish fever dream, but for some reason I am unable to. I see myself again with Emma-o in Jigoku-- I see the heads on the poles come to life as Emma-o consults his book, and condemns me once again to eternal punishment for my failure with my sons-- and I hear the voice of the dark something that I had heard before, laughing at my fear, my panic--

-- my death--

I open my eyes. The room is dark, and it feels as if it is freezing. I see out of the corner of my eye something dark and shapeless moving across the floor towards me. I do not know why, but I throw up a hand as if to ward off an attack, and the room becomes bright again. I see Michelangelo standing over me, his weapons going as if he is preparing to attack someone, his eyes wide with fear. He appears to be in a dream of some sort.

"It is all right, Michelangelo!" I say, but he continues to stand guard over me, tense and waiting for battle. "It is all right, Michelangelo!"

This time he hears me-- his eyes suddenly focus on the present. He looks stunned, then embarrassed, and he puts away his weapons and kneels down.

And asks me what that dark shape was.

I look at him, concerned.

"You saw something, my son?" and I feel his forehead to see if he, too, has a fever. He is adamant that he saw something-- something dark and shapeless coming across the floor. He is describing my dream.

I ask him for tea, and he leaves the room to get some water.

I must think about this. Could Michelangelo be picking up my depression about Death? For I find that I am still worried about this.

Could he be picking up on my dreams?

Or could something really be here?

I shudder, and suddenly think I see something out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn, nothing is there.

For some unexplainable reason, I feel relief when Michelangelo returns and starts to prepare my tea.

Yet, I notice that I find myself turning my head every so often, thinking that something is in my peripheral vision-- though I see nothing when I look directly.

And I also notice that Michelangelo is doing the same.


	4. Chapter 4

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Thanks llama and Becca T and Sakura177(? I don't think I left something off of that)-- your feed back is always welcome. I know, I post too soon, but I get in these moods to write and I can't stop. I hope, as usual, that I don't disappoint.

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TMNT-- sigh-- are owned by Mirage.

MIKEY:

I wonder if perhaps everyone is right, and I'm coming down with the flu?

I still cannot shake that feeling that I was somewhere else, or that vision of something dark creeping up on Master Splinter.

Yet-- what else can it be? Surely it can't be **real**? I read way too many comic books I think. I watch way too many spooky movies.

I guess I **could** be picking up on his dreams-- though I'm not really very good at that meditation, other plane stuff-- my mind tends to wander a bit, you know...

And I've never considered myself psychic. Except I **did** have that crystal dream about what was going to happen to us in that Underground City that Don insisted on dragging us to-- several times--

"Hey, Raph," I ask, after Leo forcefully removes me from Splinter's room instead of letting me take his turn. "Do you think I could be psychic?"

"If ya ask me, ya need to replace the last two letters in that word with the letter 'o'," he says, eyes never leaving the TV.

I am in the kitchen fixing dinner when I get the insult.

I wonder if Raph would like cayenne pepper in his burrito tonight? He's always complaining I don't make them spicy enough...

SPLINTER:

I think that I am having hallucinations.

I keep seeing things from the corner of my eye in the dark room. At first I was willing to put this down to my illness and this-- irrational depression-- I have been experiencing concerning death. But these peripheral glimpses have been increasing since this afternoon, and I cannot explain it.

I have tried to think this through, but I must come to two conclusions; either I am hallucinating, or else something is there.

Conclusion number one-- If I am hallucinating, is it possible for someone else to perceive the same hallucination? After all, Michelangelo certainly seemed to know exactly what I was seeing-- or dreaming. Yet hallucinations, brought on by fever and a disturbed spirit or great worry, is the most logical, most likely explanation; a paranoid response to the situation as it were. But why can Michelangelo pick up on this? I would expect that more from Leonardo...

Conclusion number two-- If something **is** there-- what can it be? And if it is there, why have none of the others noticed it, just Michelangelo? He certainly, from what he told me earlier, has noticed this dark "something" since my first fainting spell. This has led his brothers to believe that perhaps he, too, is coming down with illness. I would, again, expect Leonardo to pick up on this, rather than Michelangelo. After all, his meditation training is more advanced than that of his brothers. In either scenario, Michelangelo is the surprise equation.

I want to believe that this is just a reaction to illness and depression. Still-- what if we both are seeing "something" that is really there?

I shiver in spite of myself, which earns me sudden attention from Leonardo, who is offering to put yet another blanket on the bed.

"No, thank you, my son. Three are more than enough."

He reluctantly leaves to get my dinner.

Michelangelo was not too willing to relinquish his watch, but Leonardo forcefully replaced his brother for **his** turn at playing wet nurse-- no, wait, that is not the expression-- nanny?

Care-giver?

Prison guard?

Probably that latter, as he has made it virtually impossible for his father to go to the bathroom with some semblance of dignity.

"Don't lock the door, Sensei! Are you all right, Sensei? Shouldn't I be in there with you, Sensei? Are you all right, Sensei? I can come in if you need me, Sensei."

I know that behind my back my sons have made crude jokes about my going into the bathroom to "meditate", but it is almost a reality at the moment-- I am so much in need of time to calm my spirit, as well as my patience with my son.

I sigh, and turn my mind back to these two questions: am I seeing things? Or is something really there?

Am I hallucinating?

I decide to confirm this with Leonardo, who has just come back with my evening meal.

"I haven't noticed anything, apart from the room seeming cold at times, " he says, pouring me some cool barley water and helping me to sit up to drink it. "But Sensei, I don't think your fever is high enough for hallucinations. Perhaps it's something else? Perhaps you're worried about something?"

I think about this-- it is one of my theories, after all. But then I dismiss it.

"Your brother has experienced a similar encounter," I tell him, but Leonardo looks as if he is not ready to put much credence in Michelangelo's abilities to pick up on my emotions, or my dreams.

"Mikey is probably coming down with the flu," he says easily, preparing the herbal medication that April has brought to help treat my illness. "Mikey has an overly excited imagination. He can't even pick up his room, much less what you're talking about."

"You seem very sure of your belief, Leonardo," I say, rather sternly. "Are you not perhaps being too harsh in your judgment?"

"I honestly do not believe that Michelangelo can do something like register your emotions-- or your dreams-- or any 'other worldly' experience-- especially if **I'm **not feeling it."

Then he freezes, realizing he is being rather vain in his abilities, and apologizes to me for making such a statement.

But I know he still believes this to be true.

As I sit there, waiting for him to hand me the medication, once again I believe I see something from the corner of my eye; I turn to look, and suddenly I feel dizzy; I hear Leonardo from a distance as it were. Then the moment has passed, and I find that I have spilled the medication on the blankets.

Leonardo is quickly removing the wet covers, relieved that nothing has reached me-- an impossibility considering the number of blankets he has tried to smother me with.

"Sensei, are you all right?" he asks again-- I register the fact that he has asked me this question twice already, and is growing more and more agitated with my not answering.

"Yes, my son," I manage, as he replaces the soaked cover with another one. "I was momentarily dizzy. I saw again that 'something' from the corner of my eye, something dark, and when I turned to look at it, I became light-headed."

He feels my forehead, then frowns.

"You don't seem any warmer. Let me go get some more of this herbal stuff-- I think you spilled the last of what we were keeping in here-- just lay down, Sensei-- I won't be long, I promise!"

At that he is gone.

I suspect that he has mentioned this latest dizzy spell, as it is not quite three minutes before Michelangelo has returned to the room, in spite of Leonardo's command to "leave Sensei alone, Mikey!"

"You saw it again, didn't you Sensei?" he asks, coming over and kneeling down close, as if seeking comfort instead of offering it. "You saw that-- that whatever-- again, didn't you? I felt something was wrong, just now! I felt something had gotten in here, just now! I swear it!"

Before I can answer, or calm him down, Leonardo is entering with more medication and a stern look on his face.

"Michelangelo! I told you to leave Master Splinter alone!" he reprimands his brother as if I am not there; as if he is the head of the family, and I am nothing.

"Leonardo, Michelangelo may stay!" I snap, surprising all three of us with my sharp tone.

I take the medication, ignoring the silence, and then gather my thoughts.

"My sons, I feel that something is not quite right, and I am not speaking of this illness," I find myself saying. "I have two theories I will present-- to **both** of you," I add, with a look at Leonardo, "and then we will discuss them."

And I lay out my thoughts on the cause of these "visions", as well as my ideas regarding both-- though I do not dwell on my depression regarding death, which I find I still cannot shed.

And as I speak, both of my sons listen with great attention. Then they sit, digesting these various theories, applying real-life experiences to these words, testing and retesting them in their own minds.

At least, I am sure that is what Leonardo is doing; Michelangelo wears that look I've come to know when he is confused about something but does not wish anyone to realize it.

It is not surprising therefore to me that Leonardo is the first to speak.

"Do you suppose you could be having a vision? A vision of something that hasn't happened yet, perhaps?"

We both look at Leonardo.

"Do you think such a thing possible?" I ask, interested.

"I don't see why not. Perhaps, when you first tried meditating this morning, and your temperature rose, perhaps something came through, and it's hanging around until you can fully receive it."

I think about this.

"A vision? Similar to the one I received regarding the Shredder?" I had not thought of this possibility. But a vision that does not come through, that is "hanging around" as Leonardo puts it--- "If I have guessed the meaning of your words, I do not think that it works in the manner you are suggesting."

Leonardo accepts this.

"Yeah, bro," Michelangelo says with a smile. "You make it sound like call-waiting! I didn't know the other realm worked like that."

Leonardo ignores this.

"Sensei, perhaps if you and **I** were to meditate together, as if you were giving me a lesson in visions and projection, whatever it is that you keep seeing will become clear to us both."

"Hey! Why not me as well? I've been seeing the same thing all day!"

"Calm yourself, my son," I say to Michelangelo, who is understandably upset by his brother's statement.

I sip the barley water and think of this plan, watched by two sons.

Is it worth it? Or should I just wait and see what happens?

I am feeling better-- perhaps it would be a good idea.

"Let me think about this while I eat," I say. "I feel better than I did this morning, so perhaps we might try this suggestion-- with both of you," I add, calming one son and stirring up the other. But I ignore this. "I must admit, seeing things in my peripheral vision is disturbing to my spirit."

Leonardo promptly serves me my dinner-- broth.

I sigh.

"I do not wish to sound ungrateful, my son, but I would really like to **eat** something."

"April says you should be careful when you have the flu about what you eat, but I guess if you really feel the craving for something, it wouldn't hurt," he decides. "What would you like, Sensei?"

"A little rice would be most welcome, and some fruit, perhaps?"

He smiles, as does Michelangelo, who has offered to provide me with a specially made burrito-- I gather my desire for real food is good news to them both. I politely turn down my youngest son's offer, and they both leave to bring me what I have requested.

Again, something catches my attention-- something lurking just out of the corner of my eye-- I turn to look directly at it-- and I suddenly feel chilled and dizzy.

And remember very little.

MIKEY:

Imagine! Leo thinks that only he is capable of being all "spiritual" and "other realmly" and stuff like that! As if he is the only one who can do that stuff...

I think he's just pissed 'cause **I'm **the one who picked up on all this stuff today, while he was caught with his shell down.

My plan to spice up Raph's burrito backfires-- he actually asks for more. Don, on the other hand, is drinking as much water as he can lay his hands on, and I wonder if I spiked up everyone's meal, or else got them mixed up by accident--

Or if Raph was on to me, and switched with Don--

Leo explains to the guys that Splinter wants to eat some solid food, and they all agree-- like it's up to us if Sensei has more than broth! I mean, he **is **our father! I guess he can have what he wants when he wants it. Who are we to tell him "yes" or "no"?

I help Leo by slicing up the fruit while he prepares the rice. I make it into cute little shapes-- stars, bunnies, flowers, stuff like that. I should be a great chef, you know? I could be on one of those cooking shows on the Food Network-- "Meals with Mikey"-- YEAH! Emeril, move over, there's a new chef in town!

I am in the middle of taping my show, chatting with the audience as they are oohing and ahhing over my latest creation, when I freeze--

I feel so cold--

So cold--

OUCH!

I've cut myself with the knife-- I dimly hear Don and Raph laughing at me, and Leo scolding me not to "put yourself into Sensei's dinner!"

I shake my head, trying to clear it. Don by now has realized that I am not there-- they always tease that I'm not there anyway, but I really feel as if I'm not there-- and then he is putting a bandage on my finger, and I am back again-- Leo has left with the rice, the fruit (that I didn't bleed on) and I am standing there, staring at two brothers who are staring back.

Don reaches up and feels my forehead, then looks at Raph.

"Nope, no fever yet."

Then:

"Guys! Guys! Come quick! Sensei's fainted again!"


	5. Chapter 5

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Thanks thanks thanks! I am grateful for the support. I've finished the story, but I will wait to post the last chapter. I want to be sure I've written a satisfying ending! Thanks to all of you! Forgive me for not naming names!

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TMNT are owned by Mirage, and who can blame them?

SPLINTER:

"Sensei! Sensei, can you hear me?"

I hear Leonardo as if from a distance, and realize that I am lying down.

I do not remember doing so-- once again.

I open my eyes to find all my sons looming over me, like they did in my death-dream, and for a brief second I wonder if I have passed over.

Then they all sigh with relief, I am guessing because I have opened my eyes, and they sit back while Leonardo helps me sit up again.

I lean back against the wall, feeling tired.

"Are you all right, Sensei?" Leonardo asks, handing me some water, while Raphael feels my forehead. "What happened?"

"After you left the room, I was distracted once again by seeing something from the corner of my eye," I decide I must be open with them. "I turned to hopefully get a better look at it. And then I felt chilled and dizzy. That is all I can recall."

They look at each other.

"He feels hotter than earlier," Raphael says. "But I don't think his fever's high enough for hallucinations."

"I agree," Leonardo says. "Sensei, I still think it must have something to do with your attempt to meditate this morning. Do you still feel like eating something?"

"Surprisingly enough, I do, my son," I discover, and though I do not eat all of it, or quickly, I do eat with some appetite the rice and sliced fruit he has brought me (and I compliment Michelangelo's creative designs with the fruit, though I must admit, I cannot tell what each shape is supposed to be), and I drink the broth to make them all happy, and I feel better than I did this morning.

Leonardo, meanwhile, explains to Donatello and Raphael what we were discussing earlier, and what we were contemplating doing, and asks them for their opinions.

"Well, I don't like that stuff, you know," Raphael says, thinking of his past experience-- it nearly stopped him from meditation all together-- "but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try, as long as we're there to help out in case of trouble."

"I don't know," Donatello says, who still recalls our "connection" during the evil mind torture of the Triceratons. "Don't you think we should wait until you're a bit stronger? Or at least until your fever goes down? I mean, you've fainted twice today already. Perhaps you should wait until morning, when you've rested a bit longer."

And as he speaks, once again I think I see something to my right. I turn to look, but of course, nothing is there. I feel chilled again, as well as dizzy, but I force myself to remain upright.

When I turn to look at my sons, their faces are identical in expression: one of disbelief and shock.

"My sons! My sons, what is the matter?"

"You see? You see?" Michelangelo is almost shouting. "I told you that something was here! Did you see it? Did you see it?"

"Did you feel that?" Leonardo says, ignoring his brother but addressing Donatello and Raphael.. "The room suddenly seemed-- cold."

"This room is well-heated, yet it felt like a shivery wind just blew through here," Donatello replies.

"It's very creepy," Raphael says, looking at me. "Did **you** see something, Sensei? Did you and Mikey really **see** something?"

"Yes, but I still do not know what it is." And Michelangelo agreed readily.

"We should get Sensei out of this room!" Donatello says, moving as if he is personally going to carry me himself. "We should put him in one of our rooms if something is in here!"

"I don't think it'll matter where we put him," Raph says, now looking at Michelangelo. "Mikey's been feeling this thing all day-- what's to say it can't follow Sensei to another room?"

Leonardo looks determined, as if he has made up his mind already, yet wishes to have conformation.

"Sensei, you decide. Should we try it now, or wait until you feel a little better?" he asks. "Should we move you to another room? Tell us."

"I don't know about you guys, but I think if it's doing stuff like this, we'd better not wait around," Raphael says. "Sensei, what if it's something waiting around just to hurt you? We need to find out now!"

"Sensei, let's move you to another room and wait until tomorrow, when you're stronger," Donatello urges. "You still have a fever, and I don't like having you exert yourself while you're ill."

Michelangelo is strangely silent on the whole thing, though I notice that he has moved close enough to hold my hand.

I look at the expectant faces.

"I do not feel that moving me to another room will be necessary," I slowly say. "I also do not wish to wait any longer. The fact that all four of you are witnessing this indicates that this is not a hallucination or 'fever dream'. Leonardo, you and Michelangelo will assist me with this venture that we discussed---"

"Nothin' doin'!" Raphael abruptly cuts me off. "All of us! Donny and me as well, Sensei! We're comin' along!"

"Raph is right," Donatello is adamant. "We will be a part of this, too. But I still think we should do it from another room."

Such sons! I do not know what I did in a previous life to deserve such sons! I feel nothing but pride at the moment-- and my depression over death is forgotten for a brief time.

Such sons!

So it is decided that my sons and I will attempt to discover what this is by reaching out to the astral plane.

Since I sleep on a futon, it is not a problem for them to sit close enough for us to join hands and attempt this type of thing.

Leonardo has set up all of the things I like to have around me while meditating in this manner.

"Shouldn't we like set an alarm clock to go off after a certain time, you know, just to make sure we come back and stuff?" Michelangelo is suddenly nervous, and in spite of all he has witnessed today, he is reluctant to begin.

I remember discovering, when he was younger, that he had this fear of leaving your body and not being able to return-- a fear he developed from the horror movies he would watch behind my back.

"It will be all right, my son," I assure him, and Raphael makes sure that Michelangelo is sitting between me and him, sensing that perhaps his brother will feel more secure between us.

Michelangelo on my left, then Raphael, Donatello, and Leonardo on my right.

And we begin together.

MIKEY:

I told them so, I told them so!

Yet they still don't want to believe that I've been "seeing" this stuff all day, that I've seen that something is after our father!

Leo is acting the way I thought he would-- in charge, all-knowing, you know, that kind of leader stuff he is always pulling.

Even when he's not sure what it is he is leading us against.

I'm frankly surprised that Don hasn't questioned all of this. He's such a techno-geek, I am still amazed that he believes in the supernatural without question-- or rather, without some scientific explanation like he has for practically everything else in life, from popcorn to automatic flush toilets (which I **really** wish we had, 'cause Raph-- oops, sorry-- told you my mind sometimes wanders--). The only things he is questioning are Sensei's strength and the location. I don't think moving him from this room is the answer, but I can see where Don might think that this thing is in here and couldn't follow. He's wrong, of course, these "somethings" can go where ever they want. I've seen enough horror movies to know that!

Raph insists that he and Don are "comin' along", despite the fact that Raph hates that kind of stuff and Don-- well, since that mind-probe, Don has been rather hesitant to do more than simple meditation.

But now that we are agreeing to this plan, **I'm** the one who is suddenly scared.

Scared to face this "something".

I look at the others; they show no fear at all.

What is wrong with me? Why am I the only one who is truly afraid of this stuff?

I mean, we're talking leaving your BODY! Just totally leaving your body behind, like you would leave your apartment or home or whatever, and going somewhere dangerous and mysterious and possibly deadly---

And you might never get back---

And Don, in spite of his experience, acts as if this is some great scientific experiment with himself watching in a detached way.

And Leo acts as if it's his show, and he will lead in spite of Sensei.

And Raph-- well, nothing (except bugs) really scares Raph, so there's no surprise there.

And me? I'm shaking like a leaf and sweating like I have a fever.

"Shouldn't we, like, set an alarm clock to go off after a certain time, you know, just to make sure we come back and stuff?" I hear myself asking, and wishing with all my might that I could have kept quiet-- the "baby" is complaining, and I don't want to hear about it-- I don't want to be left behind-- I don't want to--

Sensei is kind; Raph is even more so, and I am almost floored by the obvious way he makes sure I am sitting between him and Sensei, as if I need protection.

I don't need protection-- I need support-- and it dawns on me that I am getting it from older bro!

I'll spare you the details; I never understand how this kind of stuff works. We start by simply meditating, finding our centers and all that junk. Calming our spirits.

And my spirit needs calming, let me tell you!

And then I am floating-- I think-- it feels like I'm floating-- but I could be wrong, and I'm just using that word to describe it, 'cause I can't think of any other words to describe this feeling. I feel like-- well, like weightless. We were weightless in the triceraton ship that time-- weightless--

I realize I still have my "eyes" closed, and cautiously open them.

Damn! I can see we're in the room, but at once I feel as if I'm "there"-- that "there" I've been feeling all day!

Everything is the same, and yet instead of dark like it was, now it's this weird night-vision thingie-- everything is in sharp detail, yet it doesn't look normal or real-- I can't explain it.

"Wow! This is so cool," I say-- or think-- I am never sure how we are communicating. I feel like I'm talking, yet I don't feel as if I'm talking, you know? "I feel so floaty, like I'm full of helium."

"Or hot air," Raphael says-- or think-- I am not sure.

I wonder if I can hit him-- and if so, can he chase me?

I see us sitting there, and I abruptly turn away-- I don't want to look at myself, it's too creepy. So I keep searching the room, trying to find in all this detailed darkness the dark "something" that has messed up our day.

Then--

"There!"

"Look at that!"

"Sensei, watch out!"

And Sensei is struck by something cold and frightening before I have a chance to do anything, even call out, struck by something dark and evil and laughing like glass breaking!

"Sensei!" I finally cry, somehow getting to him, "standing" over him.

And I turn and finally get a good look at the "dark something"!


	6. Chapter 6

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OKAY! I have written and rewritten this final chapter, and I think I have it just the way I want it! I will post it NOW before I'm tempted to keep tampering with it! Thanks to everyone who reviewed this! Becca, Llama, everyone!

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TMNT are owned by Mirage. I am owned by Diet Coke.

SPLINTER:

"Wow! This is so cool," Michelangelo thinks-- or says-- I am never sure how we are communicating in this situation. "I feel so floaty, like I'm full of helium."

"Or hot air," Raphael cannot help but say-- or think-- I am not sure.

We are in the room, sort of viewing ourselves as well as the surroundings both physical and psychic.

For several minutes, I simply let my mind slowly drift around the room.

Then--

"There!"

"Look at that!"

"Sensei, watch out!"

And I am struck by something cold and frightening before I have a chance to make any move or prepare myself. I am sent flying across the room, and I "crash" into a wall.

Michelangelo is now between me and the "dark something" that has plagued me all day-- its laugh is like the sound of breaking glass, and it looms over my son and me.

I finally get a good look at this thing-- for thing it appears to be.

It looks like a rat-- and a human-- and a rotting corpse.

It is dark, and moves in a flowing motion, like water-- no, like mud-- like earth-- like freshly turned earth from the grave--

It moves towards Michelangelo and me, as if to attack, but Raphael blocks it-- and is sent flying!

Michelangelo takes his place, and manages to make contact with it with kicks and punches before he, too, is knocked away. Then Donatello attacks it in a similar manner, knocking it towards Leonardo, who also gives and takes many punches and kicks. But they are no match for this thing.

Raphael, however, is once again in front of me, ready to fight this thing. Michelangelo is also suddenly there, prepared to defend me from this abomination.

I keep staring at this apparition-- it is familiar-- it is familiar--

"Who are you?" I ask-- or think-- to this creature. "Who are you? What have you to do with me?"

"I am **Shi**," it responds, and I am not the only one to feel the cold as it speaks to us. "I am what many fear. I am what you fear. I am what you fear the most."

Now I understand. The name is not lost on me, though my sons fail to recognize it for the moment.

"You have feared me for some time, and now you have made it possible for me to approach," it continues-- and laughs again, that laugh that sounds like breaking glass. My sons cover their ears, trying to block out that sound-- except Michelangelo, who is standing on guard-- yet I can see that the laughter is hurting him as well, if not more than his brothers.

And they all shiver, as the cold comes from this creature-- it is so cold!

Cold like the grave--

"You have feared me the most today, Splinter-san, so today your fear comes true!" and as it approaches, the cold intensifies-- and now a terrible stench issues from this thing-- the stench of rotting flesh, of moist earth--

Of Death--

I completely understand now! Foolish old rat, I completely understand!

This is my problem that I created, it seems. I created it with my depression; with my worries for my sons; with my foolish, selfish worries for myself. I summoned this demon myself with my own foolish, selfish emotions!

**Shi**.

Even the shape makes sense-- the rat, for I am a rat-- the human, for I am mutated and rather human in my abilities-- and the corpse to represent the decaying body.

Suddenly I am angry! I am angry at this evil spirit, and even more angry at myself for "creating" this situation.

"I do not fear you, Shi," I respond, and I get up, and move in front of Michelangelo. "I am ready for you. Come take me."

"Master Splinter!" Leonardo shouts, catching on before the others. "Mikey, don't let it touch Master Splinter!"

And the others try to block the way.

"No!" I command my sons. "I understand why it is here. I will explain later."

"There will be no later for you," the cold sweeps over us again, the cold and the stench and the fearful sound of its laughter-- but this time I do not feel it as strongly as before. "There will be no later for any of you. Except as '**Shigo**'."

"I do not fear you!" I respond, and I throw up my hands in front of me, ready to strike. "I am not afraid of Death!"

Now they are all once again trying to interfere, but I refuse to let them take part.

"Come and take me, Shi!"

And when it is within striking distance, I fight it!

It is like a competition! I feel so alive! I make many punches and kicks, driving this thing that my selfish fear has created across the room.

I receive many punches and kicks, for it can fight back. It breathes out the freezing breathe, trying to take mine. It laughs again, trying to paralyze me with that breaking glass sound. It tries to overpower me with the smell of the grave. It tries to overpower us all.

I see my sons struggling against this fear, and my anger increases.

I see Michelangelo as he suddenly attacks this creature from the side, desperate to shield me in spite of my command to not interfere. I see him "tossed" to the side like a rag doll-- I see his corporeal body sag in the circle as the result of this attack.

My son!

I renew my attacks with much to fight for; much to live for!

My sons must not be left alone! And I kick this "manifestation" of Death, causing it to waver, to shutter, to fade slightly.

I must be here for my sons! And I punch this "creation" of my depression, driving it further in on itself.

I am not afraid of Death! I am not afraid of Life! I am not afraid!

It is now making a sound like wailing-- growing more distant as I continue to attack this evil spirit that I have summoned with my foolish worrying.

And I feel victorious, though the fight is not quite over.

My sons are stunned, desperate, concerned-- and amazed, I think, when, with a final leaping kick, I send this thing flying backwards out of sight and existence.

Then I am surrounded by my sons in this plane...

Then I am surrounded by my sons in my room... like in my death-dream.

I am lying in bed, looking at four concerned faces.

I don't remember going back to bed.

"Good!" Raphael is saying. "The fever has finally broke."

"How are you feeling, Sensei?" Leonardo says, helping me to sit up and offering me a glass of water.

"You sure had us worried," Donatello says. "Your fever was so high, you began to hallucinate."

Now I am completely confused.

"Hallucinate? Do you mean we did not just now confront Shi?"

Now they look worried.

"Sensei," Leonardo says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "What do you mean about us confronting Death?"

I think long and hard. What has been reality today, and what has been dream?

So, I explain what I am talking about, starting with this morning.

"You mean yesterday morning," Donatello says. "Most of your story takes place yesterday, and makes sense up to the part about dinner."

"When I came back with your dinner, you had fainted again," Leonardo tells me. "And your fever had gone up pretty high. We got you into bed and we've sat with you all night."

"You were restless most of the night, talking about cold and fear and Shi," Raphael continues the story. "I had to hold you in bed at one point, because you shouted 'I do not fear you, Shi! Come and take me!' and you tried to get up."

I dreamed it all? It was so real.

I look at Michelangelo, who is sitting there, wrapped in a blanket; after all, he had felt these things as well. He had seen this dark "something" as well.

He doesn't look me in the eye at first, as if ashamed; then he sighs.

"I shouldn't be in here," he murmurs. "I have a temperature. I think-- I've caught the flu."

I stare long at him. Then I look at the others.

I have a suspicion-- but I push it from my mind; I feel so tired, and they look tired, especially Michelangelo.

A dream, they insist. Well, it would make sense. A fever dream. It is certain that I do not remember much after this battle, and I can somehow tell that it is morning. Yes, it would make sense.

It would also make sense if they were hiding the truth about the confrontation. I am sure they are not lying about my being so ill during the night. I look into their faces. They are calm, determined-- such sons! I decide to accept this explanation; **their** explanation.

For now.

I tell my sons what I remember of the events, and I tell them why I probably "dreamed" like that in the first place.

"In the morning, when I fainted the first time, I allowed myself to become depressed at the prospect of nearing the end of my life," I confess. "I do not recall ever being this ill before, and I wondered if this illness was an indication that I had reached the end of my unnatural life-- for this mutation has increased my years by more than many. And I worried about what would happen to you all."

They are nodding at each other, as if they suspected as much.

Somehow this does not annoy me as it would have earlier.

I tell them of our 'trip' to the astral plane-- Leonardo, Michelangelo and I had discussed this because of what I had seen in my peripheral vision-- and when the vision presented itself as part-rat, part-human, and part-corpse, and had said that it was what I feared the most-- Shi-- I then knew that this was manifested from my depression earlier. I knew it was not really Death I was facing, just my fear for my sons after I am gone.

I was facing myself.

Anyway, that is what I tell **them**.

"This dream seemed so real," I say, looking at the innocent faces being presented to me. "But I am relieved that you say it was only a dream. I must not worry about you four. But for some reason, I cannot help it. I cannot explain why."

"I can," Michelangelo says. "Because you're a parent, and parents worry all the time about their kids."

"Yeah, look at Casey's Mom," Raphael points out.

"Look at the Daimyo," Donatello reminds us.

"It's only natural you worry about us, Sensei," Leonardo says. "You have always been very caring. Look how you tried to save your master Yoshi. Look how you collected four baby turtles in a coffee can and cleaned them off-- and raised them."

"You know, Sensei-- we worry about you," Michelangelo says, and they all nod in agreement. "And we worry sometimes about the future. But it'll be all right."

I smile at Michelangelo.

"Yes, my son. Yes, you are right-- it will be all right."

"Yes, and now, Sensei, though your fever has broken, you still have the flu, and you still need to rest," Leonardo takes charge. "And Mikey-- you need to go to bed, now!"

He will take care of his brothers.

And they will take care of him.

I need not worry. And they need not worry, either. Let them think that my explanation is correct. Let them think that it wasn't really Death I'd faced.

Though it was--

Let them think that they have "fooled" me. They are only looking out for me.

Such sons!

I smile at all of them, and lay down, and go back to sleep.

MICHELANGELO:

Outside Master Splinter's room, we look at Leo.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to tell him that story?" Raph asks.

"No, but I would rather he thought it a fever-dream than know it was the truth," Leo responds. "You saw how ill he was afterwards-- his fever was so high, and he really was hallucinating afterwards. He came close to dying in my opinion, in spite of defeating Shi. And you know how worried he was about us, even while he was so sick."

He looks again at Splinter's door, then at his brothers.

"I don't like lying to Sensei. But it was for the best. He shouldn't worry, and believing that it was a dream will keep him from worrying. You know what they say-- 'an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure'."

"I don't like lying to Sensei like that, either," Don says, "but I agree with Leo. He'll rest better if he's not worrying. It was for the best."

"I only hope we can keep it from him," Raph says, pointedly looking at me.

Looking at me, who felt all this stuff all this time; me, who had been seeing this "something"-- had they forgotten that I was feeling what Splinter had been feeling, had been experiencing?

But I am quiet. I'm afraid if I try to talk, I'll start crying. Don't they understand?

And why do they insist on keeping this from Sensei? Once again, who are we to tell our father yes or no, or withhold the truth from?

Sensei needs to know; Sensei would want to know. We have no right to make Sensei believe that is was all just a dream. It's not right!

I start to say this, to say all of this, to stand up to my brothers-- but my voice chokes on me, and I can feel the stupid tears trying to get out of my eyes.

I pull the blanket tighter around me; I'm feeling that "cold" feeling from before, though I'm sure it's just from memory, plus the flu.

"You know, Sensei wasn't the only one worried," I finally manage to say something, even though it's not what I'd planned on saying. "When he told Shi to come and get him, I was sure it was over."

I was sure that he was going to die, I silently add-- but they don't need to hear that part. I think they've guessed it.

I think they've guessed it because they are all thinking it as well. I see them look at each other as if reading each others' thoughts.

And they look at me again-- me who can't prevent myself from crying now that it's over.

And my brothers hug me.

But I plan on talking with Sensei soon. I don't like lying to Sensei about this whole thing. I **will** talk with him about it-- as soon as this stupid flu is over, that is.

At least I didn't lie to Sensei about that.

Small comfort.


End file.
